


Seduce and Destroy

by LuciferianRising



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Bottom Vergil (Devil May Cry), Brief intimacy in the bath, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Sibling Incest, Sin Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry), The Twins are Intersex, Top Dante (Devil May Cry), Twincest, Vaginal Fingering, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferianRising/pseuds/LuciferianRising
Summary: Leave it to Dante to find ways to make him unravel. It's a good thing Vergil loves his brother.
Relationships: Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	Seduce and Destroy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dicksoutforproblematiccontent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicksoutforproblematiccontent/gifts).



> A gift for [dicksoutforproblematiccontent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicksoutforproblematiccontent)! I hope you enjoy this little one-shot. I had tons of fun writing it. Also, shout out to the Spardacest discord for putting up with me posting snippets there lol.

Normally, he wouldn’t let himself partake in such a matter, but Vergil will be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of the span of emptiness in the shop. 

Bathing is something he rarely makes time for, instead preferring the quick and, in his mind, cleaner spray of a shower, but Vergil is feeling a little more forgiving of himself today, and thus he’s indulging himself. A rare thing, undeniably so. 

The tub is deep enough to submerge his entire body, and its porcelain surface retains the heat of the water wonderfully. Steam fills the space of the bathroom connected to Dante’s bedroom, a cloying atmosphere infused with all the scents of the floral oil spread throughout the water. Vergil allows himself to doze in and out, his eyes fluttering closed for moments at a time, before he shakes himself back into wakefulness. 

Dante keeps a small radio in the bathroom, apparently not fond of quiet shower times. Right now, it’s softly singing a classical tune, stringed instruments being tugged expertly and creating a cadence that eases the stiff line of Vergil’s back. The sound reminds him of simpler times, older times when childhood had shielded him from the cruelties of the world. Before his entire life took a devastatingly sharp turn. 

It feels like home.

His ankles are crossed in the water, one of them swaying back and forth to the rhythm of the music, and the heat trapped inside the bathroom is beginning to make him feel lightheaded, but he has no plans of leaving anytime soon. He wants to enjoy this for as long as he can. 

It seems fate has other plans, however. Vergil can sense him before he can hear the stomping of his feet on the stairs or smell his invitingly sweet scent. He tries not to let his lips thin into a terse line, even though he knows his brother will barge into the bathroom once he reaches the bedroom. It would be unlike Dante to not want to command his attention. 

Honestly, it was Vergil’s fault for constantly giving him it these days. He has no idea where he’d stopped drawing the line, but apparently Dante had become quite skilled when it came to his persuasive abilities. 

That, or he simply loved him. Perhaps both. Vergil isn’t afraid to admit his fondness for his brother. Months of living together had helped to heal the many wounds shared between them. 

Lo and behold, the bathroom door creaks open, and he sees Dante lean almost playfully around the door’s edge, peeking in like a curious stranger up to no good. Vergil tries not to scoff at his behavior.

“Yoohoo,” His brother calls out to him. Vergil hums dismissively, averting his pale gaze elsewhere, though he wasn’t truly bothered. He had to posture, though, to keep up appearances. There were certain parts of himself that he was unwilling to shed. “Hey Verge, you busy?” 

“Why do you ask?” Vergil asks flatly, staring up at the ceiling and counting the various cracks in the paint. “I am, actually.” 

“Aw, don’t got time for your little brother? I’m wounded.” Dante’s hand covers his heart in dramatic fashion. Vergil can’t resist rolling his eyes at his antics. “Well, am I least invited to join you? I think I deserve to relax too, y’know. Been a busy as all hell day.” 

Vergil says nothing, but his hand does make an aborted motion towards the water. It’s all the invitation Dante needs, before he’s shucking off his coat and shirt, the rest of his clothing following shortly afterwards. Vergil doesn’t allow himself to stare, instead studies the grid pattern on the wall next to the tub. He feels more than sees Dante step into the tub, though his younger twin’s complaints of the water being too hot are plenty loud enough. 

Dante’s legs find all the spaces around and between Vergil’s, and he settles back against the rim of the tub, sighing contentedly, his eyes falling closed. “Oh man, this is the ticket.” 

It’s here that Vergil allows himself to look at Dante, though his eyes remain trained mostly on his face. There’s something alluring about the longer length of his brother’s hair, the ways the ends wave here and there, looking soft and fluffy. Even the stubble that grazes his jawline is attractive in its own right, making Vergil want to brush his fingers against it or feel it against his cheek.

While Vergil is refined elegance, Dante is rough beauty. Though their bodies are almost exactly the same, there’s something about the small differences in his brother that makes him appear more seasoned. Vergil thinks it’s ironic, considering he’s the older twin. He should be the wiser one, he tells himself. 

There’s also something about looking at Dante that just… warms him. Without the irrational bitterness to cloud his vision, Vergil only feels a wave of peace meeting his brother’s gaze now. All their time in the Demon World together had been a balm for their shattered relationship, and the months spent living together in Devil May Cry only served to bring them closer. It was strange to think of Dante not as his enemy, but his brother now. 

His partner. His other half. His **lover** . 

No, there’s only fondness in his gaze, perhaps a bit of irritation here and there, but mostly admiration for Dante. Vergil loves his brother, undoubtedly so. He’s unable to comprehend how he’d gone so long without Dante’s presence in his life. It seems foolish to think that at one time, he’d detested him. 

They were better together. 

Apparently having had enough of Vergil’s silence, Dante chooses to speak up, “You’re awfully quiet, Verge. What, got nothing to say to yours truly?” 

It almost feels childish, but Vergil digs his foot into Dante’s side, provoking an exaggerated “ow” from his brother. Dante responds by grabbing his ankle and dragging Vergil forwards, sending Vergil’s back down the side of the tub. He fumbles for a moment, before righting himself again, a small scowl painting his features. No real anger, though. Strange, how tolerant he’s become. 

“That’s what you get,” Dante teases him lightly. Vergil merely huffs. “You know, you’re cute when you’re irritated, right?” 

“Hush, Dante.” 

“No way,” Dante grins at him, his sharp canines showing clearly through his lips. Vergil doesn’t relent, his stare as critical as ever. Dante chuckles quietly, before leaning forward and moving through the water. He closes the space between them, his skin meeting Vergil’s, their chests aligning as Dante pressed himself into the shape of his twin’s body. 

A damp hand slides along Vergil’s neck, around to his nape and into his hair, fingers pressing lightly and comfortingly into his scalp. It’s hard to resist the sigh that wants to seep past his lips, and Vergil eventually gives in, breathing out his contentment at the sensation. Dante’s so close now that he can feel his warm breath fanning across his damp skin, the scent of him sweet and alluring. It makes Vergil’s head spin, the need to sink his teeth into the curve of Dante’s neck almost burning him. He wanted to feel his brother’s skin part beneath his teeth, taste the warm gush of blood that would fill his mouth, and relish in the intoxicating flavor that was Dante. 

Instead, he gets a pair of teeth at  **his** neck, Dante having leaned into the junction of his shoulder, his mouth trailing a wet and dangerous trail up Vergil’s jugular. He can feel Dante’s teeth skimming across his skin, sharp and deadly and wonderful all at once. The tantalizing mixture of pleasure of pain that accompanies such a bite has Vergil biting his lip in anticipation. 

And yet, Dante doesn’t sink his teeth down, never once breaks his skin, merely teases at him with his teeth and tongue, sucking dark spots into his flesh that fade much too quickly. Vergil’s breath catches under his brother’s ministrations, his toes curling at the sensual nature of Dante’s mouth.

His legs have parted, allowing Dante to fit in between them snugly, and though it’s a tight fit in the tub, it’s a wonderful feeling having Dante pressed so closely to him. Vergil lazily loops an arm around Dante’s shoulders, drawing him closer and encouraging him to continue with his loving attention. 

It’s wonderful to lie back and let Dante paint his throat with teeth marks and bruises, but Vergil can feel his fingers beginning to prune in the water, and the sensation is one he’d rather not feel; His nails glide carefully across Dante’s shoulder, hoping to gain his attention. “I believe it’s time we go out.” 

“Already?” Dante murmurs into his skin, his voice muffled. “Damn, I was just starting to have fun.” 

Vergil tips his head forward, his lips brushing just over the top of Dante’s hair, where it hides his ear. His hand smooths against the side of his twin’s face, pressing back loose strands of pale hair that frame Dante’s cheeks. Vergil’s voice is low and smooth when he speaks. “We don’t have to stop.” 

“Thank goodness for that,” Dante laughs lightly, before drawing back enough to fix Vergil with a quick gaze. His mouth is upon him in the next instant, claiming Vergil in a needy, albeit patient kiss. Dante’s head tilts, his lips parting, his tongue slipping between Vergil’s own before he’s licking at his brother’s mouth hungrily. 

And Vergil - he curses himself - moans into it, already drunk on the flavor of Dante’s tongue, already chasing after the taste of him. His hand snatches a handful of Dante’s hair, though he doesn’t tug or pull at it, simply holds his brother against him in an attempt to never let him go. He wants to melt into Dante, wrap himself around his body and seek out all those mind-numbing pleasures he knows the other can give him. 

He’s forced so far back against the tub’s wall that his body begins to bend almost in half. Dante seems intent on kissing him so hard that he doesn’t mind the predicament he’s put Vergil in, perhaps even likes the way his body is contorting beneath his passions. Vergil’s nails sharpen considerably, and they dig with warning into Dante’s skin, piercing the back of his shoulder and leaving glistening red crescents in their wake. 

Dante finally relents, hissing out lowly, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment, before he’s exhaling his relief, his lips quirking into a smirk. Vergil’s body relaxes again, and his back is spared any further torque. “Sorry about that.” 

“I highly doubt you are,” Vergil retorts skeptically. Beneath the water, his hand searches for the drain, hoping to unplug it and hasten their move to the bedroom. There was always a part of him that could barely stomach waiting to touch Dante. Once the proverbial foot landed, it was hard to hold back the desire that crept up inside of him, his younger twin always knowing just how to draw the emotions right out of him. 

“Wouldn’t dream of hurting you, Verge.” Dante quips rather casually. Vergil finally manages to find the plug, and the water begins to drain, much to Dante’s dismay. He reluctantly pulls away from Vergil, sighing out his disdain at the escaping heat, but also giving Vergil enough room to maneuver himself out of the tub. 

He does just that, quickly turning away from Dante and toweling himself off, trying not to shiver at the sudden lack of warmth surrounding him. Dante is slower to follow, but he eventually relents, and Vergil learns this once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his middle, a mouth pressing hot against his shoulder.

“Can you control yourself for just a few moments?” Vergil snorts. 

“What am I doing?” Dante mumbles against him, choosing at that moment to begin sucking dark spots into Vergil’s skin. It’s simultaneously painful and pleasant, drawing a shudder out of Vergil as he felt both teeth and lips mark him up possessively. “Come on, this is nothing.” 

“Dante…” He means for it to sound more condescending, but it comes out as a pleased sigh instead. Vergil’s fingers curl around Dante’s arm, both wanting to remove his hold and keep him close.

Dante responds by taking a step towards the door with Vergil in his arms, and Vergil nearly stumbles with the movement. He resists the urge to growl in warning, instead managing to pry Dante’s arms from around his waist. Still, Dante’s quick to spin him around and do it again, his arms locking around Vergil’s back, pulling him close. He grins triumphantly. 

“You are too spoiled,” Vergil aims for acid, and gets lukewarm water instead. 

“You love me,” Dante remarks slyly, and yes, it’s true. It’s the only reason Vergil hasn’t snarled and clawed himself away. It’s the only reason he lets any of his defenses down around Dante these days. Dante steps backwards, takes Vergil with him more carefully this time, leading him out of the bathroom and into the much cooler bedroom. Vergil can feel himself missing the oppressive heat already. 

“You are lucky that I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so forgiving.” Vergil shoots back, though his tone is relatively neutral. 

“Yeah, I am lucky,” Dante murmurs almost thoughtfully, and Vergil is acutely aware of the gravity of that statement, knowing just how unlikely it was that Dante would ever get anything resembling a family back. And yet, here they were, against all odds, against every obstacle that tried to push them apart - they’d still found their way back to each other. 

And it wasn’t just them. There was Nero too.

Dante turns abruptly, moves Vergil so that his back is facing the end of the bed, before he’s walking him backwards quickly, causing the back of Vergil’s knees to hit the edge of the bed. Vergil goes willingly, let’s himself buckle and collapse against the duvet, let’s Dante follow after him and fit between his legs. He’s vividly aware of the hands that are skimming up his sides, the pads of Dante’s fingers soft against his skin. 

Their mouths meet once again, a soft and patient slide of lips and tongues, a banquet for both of them to indulge in. Vergil will never tire of the taste of Dante, will never grow weary of his tempting scent. He’d forever crave the flavor of him on his tongue, whether it be through these consuming kisses or his rich blood. 

Once the thought is in his head, it’s hard to banish. Vergil’s teeth are sharp, and they sink down with purpose into Dante’s bottom lip, quickly causing blood to bubble to the surface. The taste is divine in his mouth, and his breath quickens, occasionally catching on the faintest of noises. He can feel Dante’s fingers curl against his sides, the barest hint of claws raking carefully over Vergil’s skin. 

If it’d been Vergil in Dante’s position, he probably wouldn’t have been able to control himself. He would have drawn blood. 

Vergil parts from him with a sharp hiss, his voice nearly tearing into two with the sound. He hadn’t noticed before, but he’s painfully aware now of how Dante’s hips are moving against him slowly, and it manages to tear out a gasp that is quickly bitten off by Vergil. 

Dante merely laughs, almost breathlessly, “Couldn’t help myself, sorry.” 

“Learn some patience,” Vergil tries to chastise him.

“No such thing when I’m around you.” Dante absolves himself. His hands raise to cup Vergil’s face, and he leans down once more to smother him with a kiss, mouth open and hot against Vergil’s, voice caught in his throat and riddled with pleased moans. 

And still, he rolls his hips against Vergil, teases his cock to life immediately, and has his cunt throbbing with sudden need. Vergil can feel his focus shattering beneath Dante’s body, as it always does, leaving him dizzy with need and the first waves of mounting pleasure. Their legs tangle, a mess of limbs that curl around each other, and Vergil rights himself against Dante’s thigh. It proves to be the perfect surface to rub himself against, and while Vergil tries to argue that he’s not desperate in his head, the way he chases after Dante and rides his limb has just enough of an impatient edge to it. 

He doesn’t mean to make a mess of him, but Vergil’s head is already clouded with lust, and the arousal that begins pouring out of him leaves Dante’s skin slick and sticky. He’s not sure what he wants touched more; his cock or his cunt, but Vergil has the distinct desire to feel something inside of him. It’s hard to resist touching himself, his fingers burning with the desire to wring that pleasure out. 

There’s no need, not when he knows Dante would much rather do it himself. 

“Dante,” The name is breathed against his brother’s mouth, both a reverent whisper and a needy plea. Vergil knows that his words have complete power over Dante, can siphon anything out of his younger twin. He’ll never admit to using it to sway Dante into working quicker, but he does just that. “Quickly, please.” 

Though, perhaps he should have known better than to try and speed things along. Dante relished in drawing out these moments, took utter pleasure in making Vergil unravel beneath him. Of course he was going to take his sweet time. “You can wait,” He can hear the grin in Dante’s voice. Vergil has to fight tooth and nail not to bite at his shoulder. 

“There’s no need,” Vergil resists, though his voice catches on a particularly good rub, both his dick and nethers throbbing in time with the movement. He’s already leaking, a trail of arousal dribbling thickly down his cock. He tries to keep his voice neutral, but it’s breathless and airy when he speaks. “You’re doing what you always do.” 

“Driving you crazy? Yeah, I like that.” Dante replies wittily. Vergil can feel one of his hands smoothing over his sternum, trailing a soft and tantalizing path down his stomach and to his groin. Dante’s fingers briefly brush over his straining cock, a touch that has Vergil biting down sharply at his lip, resisting the urge to moan like a wanton creature. 

And, oh, his brother leans down, licks softly at one of his nipples before taking it into his mouth and lathing his tongue over it repeatedly. Vergil can’t contain the pleased hiss that slips past his teeth, his voice fading into a light growl. Dante’s sinfully good with his mouth, devastatingly so, to the point where his lips and tongue can work Vergil into the most painful states of arousal. 

He knows he’d rather have Dante’s mouth somewhere else. 

The thought makes liquid fire run through his blood, and he can feel his cunt throbbing and leaking steadily, wanting nothing more than to feel that mouth upon him, to get lost in the slick and teasing motions of Dante’s tongue. Vergil’s hips rise, press against Dante needily, his legs spread out for his brother. He can feel Dante’s hand dip lower, over the swell of his balls and to the folds that are damp with want. 

He makes an embarrassing noise when he feels the pad of Dante’s finger rub at his clit, the stimulation already so intense. Vergil shudders beneath the attention, both from Dante’s mouth on his chest and his fingers which stroke at him almost torturously. The tandem has him nearly writhing beneath his brother, hips rising to accommodate those teasing presses, head tossed back and lips parted on quickening breaths. 

This is where Dante excels, where he expertly knows how to make Vergil fall apart. There are no words spoken between them, a silent agreement to let Dante simply work, and let Vergil shake and shudder beneath his mouth and hands. Vergil’s voice is taut, and he tries desperately to keep the moans and whimpers to a minimum, but it’s getting harder with each rub of his clit, with each roll of Dante’s tongue over his nipple. 

The combined sensations are already working him towards his first orgasm, and they’d barely taken off. Vergil tries not to feel chagrin at that fact. 

Dante switches his attention from Vergil’s chest back to his mouth, and his kiss leaves the older of them drunk with blatant need. Vergil’s fingers curl into the length of Dante’s hair, hold him firmly against his eager mouth as it’s filled with Dante’s tongue and taste. The fingers rubbing at him slip lower, curling into the heat of Vergil’s body, before one plunges down to the knuckle. 

He moans loudly, his own voice sounding strange in his ears. 

Dante is good about knowing just how to touch him. He pistons his finger slowly, teasingly, eased on by the copious amounts of wetness. Vergil can’t help but grind his hips down, ride that digit fervently until his toes are curling and his spine is tingling with pleasure. 

His eyes have fluttered closed, his lips parted and damp from Dante’s attention. His tongue snakes out, licks up a gleaming spot on his mouth, the taste of Dante pervasive and delicious. Vergil’s teeth sharpen, the urge to sink them into Dante’s neck almost overwhelming. 

He doesn’t resist for long. Vergil curls a hand around the back of Dante’s neck, and he guides his mouth to the pulse point beneath his brother’s skin, his teeth grazing his jugular, before sinking slowly and hungrily into Dante’s flesh. Dante gasps softly, his fingers stilling for a moment, before they’re moving once more, quicker and with more pressure. 

Blood fills the inside of Vergil’s mouth, hot and sweet and intoxicating. His inner demon sings happily, an appreciative growl building inside his throat, his nails sharpening into razor sharp claws. Dante’s blood is thick and rich, a perfect fusion of demonic power and human pureness. Vergil’s vision swims at the flavor, a dizzying combination that has him gulping down mouthfuls greedily. 

Dante pants softly next to his ear, his voice occasionally catching on a soft moan. Vergil is reluctant to remove his teeth from Dante’s neck, but he manages with a needy gasp, his mouth and chin painted scarlet by the blood running down them. The wound upon Dante’s neck glistens for a moment, before his skin is piecing itself back together. Vergil silently wishes that it’d remain damaged for just a short time. He rather likes seeing the crescents of his teeth in his brother’s skin. 

And despite all this, Dante’s hand never stilled, continuing its patient rhythm. Vergil can feel it rubbing against his walls, dragging searchingly over them until it finally hits something sweet. The jolt of pleasure that runs down his spine has him arching slightly, his body shaking for a moment before going lax with a shudder. And Dante, having found exactly what he was looking for, wastes no time in rubbing repeatedly at that sensitive spot. 

Vergil tries his best to keep his breathing level, to keep the noises contained, but it's impossible when he’s literally trembling against his will, unraveling with a mounting pleasure that threatens to steal the air out of his lungs. Dante’s name is a garbled whisper on his lips, a plea to both stop and never stop caught on his tongue. 

“That’s right,” Dante’s voice has grown gruffer, his tone saturated with lust. He continuously curls his finger within Vergil, makes his brother bow in half with each good press of it. “C’mon Verge. That’s it. Keep making those noises. Don’t stop.”

The pleasure coiled in his stomach is growing so taut, that it feels like something within him is going to snap. Vergil twists beneath Dante, his head tossing to the side, his voice cracking on a whimper as his body shakes apart. He gushes, warm and wet over Dante’s hand, dampening the sheets beneath them. Every nerve feels as if it’s been lit on fire, leaving Vergil flushed and panting in the aftermath. 

Dante presses closely to him, his mouth finding the curve of his jaw. His voice is a steady, constant reminder at his ear as he unravels, “I’ve got you.”

Vergil can’t even find the words to speak at the moment, panting and heated and already feeling boneless. His voice evades him, and it’s a humbling experience to be left so breathless by such a simple action. Still, even if he had his voice at the moment, he wouldn’t have complained. His spine is still tingling. 

Eventually, his breathing calms, his body going lax beneath Dante once more. The shudders still come in aborted, short waves, but his mind is clearing now, the hazy fog of pleasure rolling away like clouds on a misty day.

Dante’s laugh is as amused as ever, “You okay there, Verge? Man, you must have been pent up or something.”

Vergil’s only response is to drag one clawed finger threatening down Dante’s stomach. He hears his brother gasp in surprise, before Dante is wiggling away from that threat a little. Still, more laughter spills from him. Vergil is quick to reach up, however, to snatch a handful of Dante’s hair and drag him down into a silencing kiss. 

He’s rewarded with Dante’s fingers working on him again, though they rub at him more softly, more teasingly. It’s a wet mess between his legs, sticky and damp. Vergil feels so heated within his own skin that it almost feels like what human’s describe as a fever. He’d never been unfortunate enough to have one, his demonic blood protecting him from such illness. 

He bites at Dante’s lower lip, sharp teeth nearly piercing through the tender flesh again, but Vergil relents. Dante’s breath is warm and sweet against his mouth, inviting in ways that make Vergil want to get lost in the taste of him for hours. He can never get enough, never feels satisfied despite the long drags of their tongue and lips. It’s maddening, chasing that satisfaction, yet always being just out of reach of it. 

Dante parts from him with another chuckle, his voice dipping a little deeper. “I know what you want.” 

“Tell me then, what it is that I want.” Vergil’s voice comes a little breathier than he’d want, though his stomach twists with anticipation. 

“I’d rather show you,” Dante grins at him for a moment, before he’s sliding down the length of Vergil’s body, letting his mouth trail a wet path down his abdomen and stomach. Vergil tenses beneath his lips, feels Dante’s hands spreading his thighs apart, and knows exactly where his brother’s mouth is heading. 

His eyes close, letting darkness sweep over him, and instead of watching, he settles for simply feeling. And when he finally feels Dante’s mouth upon him, it’s like a shot of adrenaline in his veins. His heart quickens, his clawed fingers curling into the sheets below, leaving open gashes in them. 

Dante’s tongue licks along the folds of his cunt, dips between them and towards his entrance teasingly. Vergil’s voice catches in his throat, something between a cut off word and a moan. Dante’s mouth is a hot presence against his already heated nethers, his tongue a velvety and wet pleasure. He can feel him move, feel his brother’s mouth close around his clit and suck lightly, his tongue rolling over it slowly. 

And, oh, Dante’s other hand finds his leaking cock, and Vergil can feel his index finger trailing up it, rubbing at the sensitive spot just below the head. The combined attention has him breathing sharply, almost panting. His hips rise against his will, pressing tightly against Dante’s mouth, and his hands slide into his brother’s hair, curling strands around his fingers. 

It’s easy then, to get lost in the motions, to let himself roll against that teasing tongue. Vergil can feel himself getting ready to fall to pieces again, but he fights tooth and nail to prolong it all. He’s content to lie back and let Dante’s mouth torture him in the most wonderful way possible, and he does just that. 

He drifts in and out, mind hazy and full of static pleasure. Dante continually licks at him, switches between sucking and rolling against his clit to dipping inside of him eagerly. The sensations are beginning to drive Vergil mad; tingling bouts of pleasure run down his spine and legs, causing his toes to curl against the sheets. 

Vergil’s hands grip tightly at Dante’s hair, urge him to press closer, to devour him whole. He knows he must be smothering him, but he can’t find the will to care. Vergil is so lost in a sea of pleasure that any cognitive thought has been wiped from his head. He must be making a mess of Dante, too, for he feels so wet and hot that he knows the sheets must be drenched beneath him. 

His head tosses back into the pillow, his lips parted on a moan that he doesn’t even try to fight back. Dante’s mouth is so good, so warm and wet against him, so skilled in the way it licks and sucks at him. Vergil’s thighs are beginning to tremble, the pleasure mounting so tightly that he’s afraid it might break him in half. 

His voice is naught but a whisper, though its desperate and full of appreciation, “Dante, Dante,  _ Dante _ -” 

All it takes a one last, good drag of Dante’s tongue, and he’s crying out softly, throbbing with release and arching against the bed once more. And still, Dante’s mouth works at him, forces him along even further, making him toss his head to the side and bite down harshly into his lip in an effort to stem the embarrassing noises coming out of him. 

He’s left even more flushed than before, panting and staring blankly as his mind slowly clears again. Dante moves along the length of his body, smiling like he’s proud of himself, and Vergil knows he is. He always is, when he manages to make Vergil come in such a manner. 

“Don’t look so smug,” Vergil tries to chastise him, but his voice is too breathless to be taken seriously. 

“Hey, I’m just saying. You were chanting my name like a prayer a minute ago.” Dante’s voice is coy, and it makes Vergil want to curl his claws into him. “I’m not done yet, though.”

“You better not be,” It’s said with conviction, a need that bleeds through his composure like water seeping through his fingers. 

He can feel his brother’s straining cock against his stomach, wet with arousal and hot against his skin. It nearly makes him shiver, thinking of having it sink into him, filling him up so good that it makes Vergil see white. He wants nothing more than to have Dante inside him, to feel so used and taken care of that it leaves him boneless beneath him. 

Dante’s hands are on his sides then, urging Vergil to turn over, and he goes willingly, perhaps a bit too much so. Still, when he feels Dante’s cock against his backside, feels it dip between his thighs and drag against his skin wetly, Vergil can’t resist the shudder than wracks him. He can feel the head of it against his cunt, sliding slickly against the folds there. 

Dante’s hands slide along his hips, his fingers digging into the skin there. Vergil’s legs are parted before him, wide and inviting and damp with both arousal and release. Dante’s cock slides against his nethers, teasing and hard, and Vergil has to bite at his tongue to prevent the impatient remark that almost spills from him. 

The thought of doing so is quickly chased away, however, when he feels Dante press against him, the head of his cock dipping into Vergil with ease, though it’s still tight and hot. He moans, his voice caught in the pillow below him, a desperate noise to fit the slow slide of Dante’s cock inside him. His nerves are on fire, pleasure thrumming pleasantly in his veins, his skin warm and pink with exertion. 

Dante suddenly thrusts forward, sinking all the way into Vergil, and the sudden movement drags a sharp cry out of Vergil, his voice reaching an octave that has his face flushing red. Still though, the feeling of Dante’s cock is divine, and he can feel the organ pulsing inside of him, a tell-tale sign of Dante’s own eagerness. 

He can hear a moan spill from his brother, low and throaty, tapering off into a soft curse that has Vergil’s eyes going half-lidded at the sound. Dante doesn’t wait, however, his hips moving forward patiently, his cock drawing in and out of Vergil with slick ease. Never completely out of him, always inside enough that it made Vergil release trembling breaths. 

The rhythm is maddening; too slow for Vergil’s liking and yet somehow so fantastic at the same time. It has his insides quivering, his cock leaking generously, leaving wet trails of pre-come smeared across the sheets. His breaths are naught but warm huffs, his teeth more often than not finding purchase in his bottom lip, his voice strained on a suppressed moan. 

Dante’s voice rises wonderfully over the sounds of their labored breathing, dripping desire and satisfaction at the same time, “Oh Verge, oh- oh,  **fuck** , Verge-” 

Blindly, Vergil’s hand reaches back, intending to find purchase on any part of Dante’s body, but his fingers are caught by his brother’s hand, and he can feel the knuckle tight grip Dante gives him - both a reassuring squeeze and an endeavor at holding on. Vergil’s face presses deep into the pillow beneath him, muffling yet another moan that’s been dragged to the surface by Dante. 

Dante’s movements are slowly gaining strength, mirroring his mounting impatience. He grips tightly at Vergil’s hip, the force of his fingers bruising, and their tips as sharp as Vergil’s now. He can feel his skin parting beneath their pinpoints, but the pain makes for a delicious ingredient for a cocktail that has Vergil almost whimpering pathetically. 

His voice is unsteady, a garbled mess of noise torn asunder by the pleasure thrumming in his veins, “Dante.. Dante, **Dante** -” 

His brother’s name on his tongue serves as fuel for Dante’s fervor. His hips roll deeply into Vergil, his cock sliding into the depths of his throbbing cunt, hitting all those sweet little spots along the way. Vergil feels like he’s dissolving beneath the pressure of Dante’s cock, his limbs going numb from the euphoria lighting his skin alight. He’s tingling all over, his core shuddering before giving away beneath the pressure, sending his entire body into a fit of trembles. 

Vergil fights tooth and nail to remain coherent, to remain solely in charge of himself and his faculties, but it’s so incredibly hard, so unbelievably earth-shattering in terms of effort. He’s almost drooling on himself, and he’s starting to get that well-used feel, but there’s still a part of him that craves even more, wants to push his body past its limits and lose his mind to a white-hot wave of pleasure. 

Behind him, he can feel Dante struggling as well, his brother’s hand shaking in his own, his fingers gripping a bit too hard at his hip, threatening to bruise bone. Dante huffs and gasps, his skin hot and feverish, damp with perspiration and effort. Something fiery thrums just below his skin, raging hot and consuming, begging to tear through his skin and show itself. Vergil can sense it permeating the atmosphere - power, pure and unadulterated, waiting to be displayed. 

He knows his voice has power over Dante. He knows it. “Dante, please…” 

He can’t tell if it’s a growl or a whimper. Perhaps both. But Dante makes some sort of desperate noise, and suddenly it’s pure heat at Vergil’s back, rough scales and rigid edges that dig into his skin. But even more so than all of that is the rigid hardness buried deep inside of him, round ridges digging into his walls sweetly, the added thickness making Vergil almost keen. 

The force of Dante’s transformation sends a pulse of pure energy throughout the room, a hellish heat filling the space around them, unnatural and just so right at the same time. Vergil feels so small beneath his brother’s Sin Devil Trigger, so uncharacteristically submissive. He tells himself it’s not submission because he  **wants** it, he desires nothing more than to be pinned beneath Dante and fucked so thoroughly that it leaves him a boneless mess. 

That’s exactly what he gets. 

Dante fucks into him so deep and good that Vergil is sure there must be no room left to go. He’s leaking from both his dick and cunt, rivulets of arousal running sticky and warm down his thighs. Any cognitive thought is fleeting, if there at all, his mind going absolutely blank beneath the force of Dante’s fucking. His brother’s cock is ribbed and thick and it rubs at him in all the right ways, leaves him smiling drunkenly, his breaths leaving him in testy exhales. 

Vergil quite literally loses moments, is stuck in a loop of pleasure so consuming that it warps his perception of time. He’s not sure how long Dante fucks him, whether it’s merely minutes or hours, but he can’t tell, and he doesn’t care, because it feels so good that he can’t even form words to describe it. 

He can feel the heat pouring from his brother’s demonic form, warming his skin to the point where he’s left panting and flushed red. Dante’s clawed hands dig painfully into his hips, pulling Vergil back and down onto his cock with each thrust. Each movement forces noise up and out of Vergil’s throat against his will, a slew of embarrassing sounds pouring from him as he’s fucked into oblivion. 

Growls arise behind him, a stream of animalistic noises spilling from Dante as he takes his fill. Vergil is torn between bouts of both pain and pleasure, an intoxicating cocktail that has him holding on for dear life. He’s beginning to feel almost raw beneath Dante’s attentions, his skin unbearably hot and his nethers feeling sensitive and used. 

Scaled arms wrap around his midsection, and he’s suddenly being rolled onto his side, his back pressing against the rigid form of Dante’s chest. A clawed hand slides down, fingers digging into and wrapping around his thigh, before it’s being lifted easily, allowing Dante full range to continue thrusting into him at this angle. 

And oh, if it doesn’t feel exquisite, if it doesn’t make Vergil moan unashamedly (at this point). He can feel the swell of Dante’s cock, can feel the base becoming engorged with the intent to fill him up. His cunt is throbbing mercilessly by this point, his body jerking with spine-tingling bouts of pleasure. Dante’s cock continues to rub against his sweet spot, making his fingers and toes curl, his spine nearly snap in half with the arch it wrings out of him. 

There’s fiery heat at his neck, a breath so hot that it almost stings his skin, before too-sharp teeth are sinking down into the tender flesh there, bringing forth both a cry and an impressive well of blood. It’s nothing like when they bite each other in their human guises, no. It’s sharp and there’s too many jagged edges, and the heat pouring from Dante is akin to the fires of hell, but a large part of Vergil relishes in it, desires nothing more than to be riddled with bite marks from Dante in this form. 

He wants his brother to take him apart, piece by piece. He wants Dante to own him, to do with him whatever he pleases. He wants Dante to win in this regard, a loss Vergil is completely fine with. 

The teeth in his neck and the cock buried deep inside him are enough to push him over the edge once more. Vergil gushes hot and warm around Dante, twitching around the organ inside of him and convulsing wildly. Blood runs in rivulets down the length of his neck and chest, crimson lines staining his skin pink. His fingers dig into the shape of Dante’s hip behind him, his claws unable to pierce the hard shell of scales encasing his brother. 

Vergil curses softly beneath his breath, chest heaving for air as Dante continues to thrust into him, chasing his own end with rhythmic movements. He’s easily overstimulated by this point, body almost rejecting the continued teasing by Dante, but Vergil relents, and let’s his brother take his fill, and deals with the mind-numbing jolts that run up and down his spine. 

Dante’s teeth have left his neck now, his voice warped by his Devil Trigger; caught on both growls and hisses and moans that are entirely monstrous in nature. His brother pushes into him with renewed vigor, that swell at the base of his cock pressing with intent against Vergil’s entrance. It’s almost painful, taking the entirety of it inside of him, but the copious amounts of slick help ease it inside, and Vergil is left feeling unbelievably full and stretched out. 

“Nnhhh,  _ Dante, Dante _ …” 

The sweet pressure hugging both the knot and his brother’s cock is enough to send Dante teetering over, his hips rolling into Vergil in shaky and strained motions. He feels the wet warmth of Dante’s release spilling inside of him, and oh, it’s  **so** much, a continuous gush of come that almost has Vergil’s eyes rolling back. 

The feel of that knot rubbing against him is almost enough to tease him back into fucking shape, but Vergil is so spent, so well used and exhausted that he can’t muster the energy nor the will to want to go on any longer. He’s content to lie on his side with Dante buried inside of him, his mind a blank slate, his skin stinging with overexertion and his body feeling worn. 

He doesn’t even remember drifting off.

* * *

“Rise and shine.”

Vergil feels more than sees Dante’s arms squeeze his midsection, his eyes fluttering open blearily before clarity is finding him. The body at his back is completely devoid of scales and claws, that supernatural heat having settled back into something slightly warmer than a human. Dante’s skin is smooth against Vergil’s, his legs having tangled with Vergil’s own sometime or another during his nap. 

His brother rests his chin against the swell of Vergil’s shoulder, a pleased grin painting his features. Vergil tries not to scoff at the overly proud look. “You know better than to wake me.” 

“Jeez, sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Dante makes an effort to sound miffed, but there’s still that playful overlay to his words. 

“I’m quite alright,” Vergil shoots back without any real malice. “I’m… quite good, actually.” 

“Oh, you better be,” Dante teases him lightly, mouth pressing delicately into Vergil’s skin for a moment. “I did most of the work, so I think it’s only fair that you wash the bed sheets this time.” 

Vergil does roll his eyes at that, choosing to roll over and return the embrace that Dante is smothering him with. He never likes to think about it, but there’s something about his brother’s presence that makes him unashamed to act so… loving towards him. It’s only in these private, shared moments that Vergil allows himself to do so. 

“Fine. An acceptable trade.” Vergil grumbles against Dante’s skin. 

“Love you, Verge.”

“Of course.” 

It’s mostly the evening time by now, and Vergil knows they both have better things to do at the moment, but he doesn’t really care. It’s nice to simply lie in bed with Dante, to let his brother chase away the soreness of their coupling with soft presses of his mouth or a stroke of his fingers down his back or in his hair. 

Devil Arms and potential highest bidders be damned. They can wait, Vergil thinks bitterly, pressing a sharp and open-mouthed kiss to Dante’s neck. 

Dante is more important than any of that menial spiel. 


End file.
